


Night

by Kissur



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Original Fiction, Other, Philosophy, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissur/pseuds/Kissur
Summary: "One day of my life"-kind of story, where night is an ending point.And, as you know, sometimes there is a whole lifetime hidden between the lines.So, what's your bet?Is it an ordinary day of a slightly mystical couple or something completely different?...or could it be both?
Kudos: 1





	Night

Time is just an axis somewhere or somewhen. It doesn't really matter actually. What matters is "life" or a sequence of intervals - years, days, seconds. Have you heard of "A day of my life" flashmob? Choose a day of your life and describe it in detail. Funny, how your ordinary routine might look like a lifetime to someone else.

Well, my dear observer, let's try it out.

I wake up.

Night is already fading, but the sunrise is yet to come. She is not here: I don't see her; I don't feel her. And that's good, that's a very nice way to start my day. It's not luck, it's just the presence of my human, my love, keeps her away. I get up carefully, I don't want to disturb my wife's sleep.

As usual she doesn't keep me waiting. Right at the moment when I sneak through the silent house to the kitchen, she appears wearing her shabby cape of brownish color. This morning she seems thoughtful, her face set in a deep expression. I get a welcoming nod.

"Good morning, it's been a while. I wasn't expecting your visit", - my voice sounds muffled and husky.

"Still, here I am. How about morning smoke?" 

"Not so early at least", - I switch on the stove, - "What about coffee?"

"Still no. As I said, it's not my killer".

After a while I sit at the table across and drink my coffee. She seems remote and slightly unbelievable. For a short moment I even allow myself to think she isn't mine. You know, it's early morning all around. It's life o’clock and upcoming day still lays seemingly far in the distance. At this point it seems unrealistically long.

She catches my eyes and turns the newspaper around. Her finger taps one of the headlines. Twice.

"Look! They did it once again. How can you describe my work so stiffy? Eh... So commonly and...", - she takes a breath, - "My results are inevitable. They should be described in a way more powerful and meaningful manner. Well, you know that, right? But these guys... These guys prefer to write enumerations instead of thoughts".

"Hon, you are aware about my feeling to newspapers. And especially I hate to read articles about your work".

"I remember. You're a bookwork, aren't you? Actually, I appreciate some of the authors trying to describe my field of activity. Without special education it's quite a challenge, but sometimes they are relatively close to reality".

"If someone writes a truthful and trustworthy book about you, it will be a bestseller just like that", - I snap fingers.

"Oh you... Always flattering me in the morning. If you bet so much on this book then go on, my dear, write it yourself".

She grins and leaves me for a while as soon as I finish my coffee. That's nice of her, I need these moments of peace. Without them I would've lost my sanity years ago. Probably... So, I wash dishes, pack my laptop and dress up for the outside. It's early autumn there, and it’s cold.

She returns while I warm the car's engine. No questions asked, no words said. She just joins me on the passenger's seat. Utterly constant in her confidence.

Now she has a leather jacket, skinny jeans and high boots, everything black. It suits her at this moment, this gothic type of elegance. Horizon glows pink and we rush forward heading to a train station.

It's half past six and we are on the platform. Train is coming soon. She leans on a wall and pulls a cigarette from the pack.

"It's not allowed here, you know?"

"Then you better not do it, my dear," - and she gives me one of those smiles of hers.

Fire from old scratched lighter touches the death stick with a delicacy of a lover. One deep breath and it's flared up. It is somehow strangely fulfilling and exciting to watch her smoking. These elegant fingers, sensual lips - deeply sexual image. Smoke disperses into cold morning air.

Scream comes suddenly. I quickly turn to see a man fallen on the rails. A big guy from the mob jumps to him despite the approaching train. Whistle pierces the air, brake blocks creak loudly, and I stand there. Frozen between heartbeats.

Big guy jumps back holding the one who fell. Train passes behind them in a split second. She slowly exhales smoke with a predator's smile.

"That's what I call not his day".

"And I call it my day, as nobody got killed in front of me while I'm still on schedule to get to work".

"We never shared terms here, my love. Anyway, here is your transport. Lucky you, go on now", - she nods at the train, - "I'll catch you later".

"See you", - I go straight to my compartment leaving her smoking near the wall.

Doors close and train picks up speed. Here is when I take a short nap. Railroads are perfect for travelling if you need to rest. It's like a high school if you're good. Everything is a foregone conclusion here - just behave fine and wait for the end of the trip. Your turn to act comes at the station.

I get out when it's time, and she is already waiting for me at the platform. She is even more natural at this point. Scary and alluring; Seductive, but with a tiny note of disgust; She waits for me, of course... Dark and graceful gown goes below her knees. Gothic metal: symphony of horror and inevitability.

We walk side by side and I feel her fingers on my wrist. Touch is delicate, nearly accidental. But it isn't.

It never was. It is just her getting closer.

"What a day! I am being walked to work by such a beautiful damsel", - I try to sound ironic.

"A knight here!" - she plays along, - "That's unfortunate, as I'm not in distress. Still thanks."

"All hail the dress! Aren't you freezing?"

"Never. You?"

"Oh, my love, how can I freeze beside you? Too hot", - I smile at her.

"Ew... Don't bring sexual tension to our relationships, please. It's weird".

"Just a joke. But I find it fair to make you feel awkward at least sometimes".

"A load off. But it's not clever to discomfort me".

We continue our way in silence.

At work I'm alright: there are some important things and some rest in between. Some call this procrastination, but I don't like the label. During lunch I surf the web. An interesting "day of my life" post is there, its author is a huge fan of bungee jumping. He describes his crazy jump from the top of a bus moving along the high bridge. It went perfect and his next goal is set. An extreme jump into the mouth of the volcano!

I admire him and his courage. Thus, my reaction is to write a supportive comment under his post. Well, he inspired me, and I paid him back. Simple as that.

She catches me at my workplace sitting on my desk.

"Hey! A check up?", - I smile welcomingly.

"Yep. Is everything going well?"

"It's okay. How did you get here? I'm not sure you are allowed to".

"I can be anywhere you want me to be, honey", - her smile is full of meanings.

"And you complained about sexual tension!"

"It's not me. It's your thoughts", - she winks and leaves.

The shift is over at five. Sun is not as bright as during the day, but there is enough time before dusk. I leave the building and there is a note for me: "I'm late. Enjoy your free time. D."

I walk to the park; I grab two beers; I talk to random people kind enough for a short conversation - I make use of my time. Early evening is at rise, and that's my favorite part of the day. Every stroll with a girl or chat with friends is better in the red light of the setting sun.

She comes with chaos. There is bright and checkered punk outfit, high sneakers and a roaring storm of violet hair. She interrupts the evening harmony and shifts my focus to her. Before that I thought there is another route for me. Now there is only her.

"Hell yeah!" - she says, "Walking around, trying to get lost or wasted. But here I am, here I catch you", - she points her finger at me, - "Together till the nightfall".

"Together till the nightfall..." - I exhale. - "Now I am ready for a cigarette". 

"Not a problem, hon", - she gives me her pack.

"Thanks".

We head to the train station. She asks me to put on a hoodie as it gets colder. Once she said if I won't do this during colder times, she would be forced to stop our relationships her way. That's why I usually bundle up when it’s cold...

I just prefer my way.

Train takes us back. We occupy a compartment, communicate, and touch each other. A lot. It's dark outside and my attention is all hers. At that long moment she is everywhere, and I feel myself vanishing in her soft and gentle web. My emotions and intentions go irrelevant like quick forest streams finally joining the great lake. They don't disturb ever so slightly the great silent and ominous glass-like surface of a mirror.

Water always scared me.

I suppose she doesn't have any special feelings for me. I guess, she is just amazed with the view, as I am a rare case. I know the ending. Deep under my skin there is a feeling that it's just a matter of time, a big game. A gamble with the perfect casino, if you want. We always lose the bet.

Train stops smoothly. Holding our hands, we exit the wagon. Discreetly as usual she replaces her outfit with the best one - black shroud with silver embroidery. It shows everything and nothing. We step away from the lights.

The night is coming.

"How was the day, darling?"

"Went great. As usual, not in a way I expected. But it wasn't bad after all, right?"

"I saw days way worse than yours. This wasn't bad".

"Do we have a minute for the last cigarette?"

"It's getting dark, love. I should go".

She leans forward and softly, like an inexperienced teen, touches my lips with hers. I smile and her tongue slips into my mouth. Everything flares, the world begins to spin, and tension fills me up, something powerful strikes me like a lightning bolt - it is dotting my every single 'i'. It is recharging my batteries.

The kiss ends as she vanishes in the nightfall.

My story is close to the end here. And you know, I really like the spiritual image of the night for its purifying freshness. There is no more tension, no drawn-out wait. I just peacefully watch the stars glow. Smoke of my cigarette raises up to the deepest darkest sky above.

Then there comes a sound - my phone's signal. Just a notification of a new comment in the bungee jumping thread. Someone asks: "Are you guys immortal?"

I smile widely. There is only one correct answer.

"I am deathless". 


End file.
